The Great Rite of Old
by Akuma-Chibi
Summary: Hermione is excited to receive her letter to Hogwarts. Finally, something explaining what she and her parents have known for years, but is it so simple? Her past is more precarious a secret than anyone could ever imagine, and the darkness buried in her bloodline isn't so easily kept from spying eyes. "Welcome to Hogwarts...Miss. Granger."
1. Chapter 1

_**The Great Rite of Old**_

_**Summary: Hermione is excited to receive her letter from Hogwarts. Finally, something explaining what she and her parents have known for years, but is it so simple? Her past is more precarious a secret than anyone could ever imagine, and the darkness buried in her bloodline isn't kept easily from spying eyes. "Welcome to Hogwarts...Miss. Granger."**_

_**Pairing: Possible Blaise/Hermione – Theo/Hermione (opinions welcomed as I've never written or read either.)**_

_**A/N: I'm going to start from the beginning, obviously, but I'm not going to follow the books as it will be mostly moot apart from select scenes. Her romance won't be taking place until around the end of the fourth year, possibly the middle of the fifth year. Let's see how this pans out. Please be open with me and let me know if you see room for improvement. I'm not interested in hurtful and hateful flames, if you seriously dislike the story, then there's a back button somewhere on the left top hand corner of your screen, push it. I crave and encourage creative perspective and welcome positive feedback or instructive criticism. Thank you.**_

**-x-x-x-**

"_Some things are too strange and strong to be a coincidence."_

_\- Emery Allen_

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1980**

_In the months that followed the new year, a child's wailing claimed the attention of a young and ambitious couple in their earliest twenties. A blossoming beauty by the name of Olivia Jean Granger née Walker and her handsome Chap, John Alexander Granger, were making headway to their home of two years when the sound echoed and called to them much like a siren._

_More so, the curious of the two, John followed the sound with his beloved at the arm. Their eyes met what appeared to be a swaddled infant at nearly the same time._

"_John!"_

"_..." John had eyes on the shadows of the alley they stood in, observing for any movements as his wife moved forward and gathered the seemingly abandoned child into her arms. He moved closer ever so cautiously, then peered down at the whimpering babe. "She looks to have been left on purpose. No letter, no locket or pocket bag of coin." _

_Olivia frowned, "there is no need for a coin purse or letter. If this one's mother did not wish to keep her, then I will take her home. You know, I've always wanted a daughter."_

_"She is not to be confused with Moses, love. Should we take her to the hospital first, check-in with the Bobbies?"_

_"What will they do!? Put a flyer, perhaps a picture on a carton? Would you think the child's mother would come if we did? An alleyway, John?" Olivia held her hand out, motioning towards the spot she'd picked the child from, "I don't believe anyone will come. No, no. I see this one, look, her eyes are simply gorgeous. She needs a good home, and I intend to give her such."_

"_Well then, you seem to have come to a decision. What will you name the girl?"_

_Olivia looked adoringly at her husband before training her eyes back upon the babe, "as with so, you shall be, Hermione Jean Granger."_

"_A Winter's Tale?"_

_"No, I was thinking of Hermione Gingold. You know, "Fighting is essentially a masculine idea; a woman's weapon is her tongue."? Inspirational and never unfairly accused of cheating. Unlike a certain Queen of Sicily."_

"_I do see where you're going there. Right then, Hermione Jean Granger. It's lovely to meet you."_

_Lovely indeed. The days that followed the finding of young __**Hermione Jean Granger**__ were beautiful, happy, and surreal. How they wished those days could stay, but with every passing year, stranger yet. Do you believe that the universe conspires against all the odds, for a soul to meet its destiny? Should, somewhere out there, a child be stolen away from a world, only to be pulled precariously back into it in early development, is it fate? Or is it merely, coincidence? What is…fate? What is destiny? It is the core of one's spirit, the linear lines that shadow one's soul and guide it unawares of where it's going or where it'll end. It is universes very own magick. Timeless. Unseen. Always there._

**-x-x-x-**

"_Fear...it always came down, to fear. Tricky thing, fear. If you're not careful, it can consume you, devour you whole. Unknowingly, silently..."_

_-Désireé Tiffany_

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1987**

"Hermione, love!?"

Brown, doe-like eyes turned to the worried and unnerved cry of her mother, a blessed woman she was. Kindness in abundance, though she too felt distressed when alone with her daughter. Still, the fistful of blood and scuff marks all along the length of Hermiones' knees and arms; her maternal instincts were overpowering her _fear_. Crouching down before the seven-year-old, she brought a hand to the young one's forehead and barely pressed her thumb along the side of the cut that bled into her left eye. Hermione followed her mother's gaze down to her hand, the incision that came from the jagged and sharp rock that had caught her fall not too long ago.

"What happened? Those hooligans again?"

_Those hooligans_ being the neighborhood boys that thought it funny to mess with the girl who could make things float when thoughtful or catch fire when upset. Hermione nodded, "it's fine, though. No real damage."

"No real damage, you say?" He sighed, "Olivia, could you clean her injuries. I'm going to have a word with the parents of these boys."

"Dad, you'll make it worse."

"...I can only make it worse if I stand by and do nothing."

Perhaps one of the better lessons Hermione had learned from her father. Naive, at times he was, John believed his daughter was undeserving of such hardships. Perhaps, when it started, she was. However, things _do_ change. It wasn't the first time Hermione had been the victim of bullying. She knew it'd not be the last.

"What happened?" Olivia asked as she stole her daughters' hands in hers and guided her inside to the kitchen. "Was it...was it..._magic_."

There were no delusions with her parents. They were not in denial; no, they'd seen it. Countless, a time, and fearfully fretted over their daughter and her uncontrollable _gift_. Yet, in hushed and unsettled tones, they would speak the word as if it's mere mention might someone the forces of evil. That made Hermione smile. Not diabolically, just, in humor; it was funny. "Mm, yes. Not on purpose, I promise!" She tried to tend to her mothers' worry but only seemed to make it worse. "I was walking home from school, minding my own when Noah and Harry pushed me from behind! I didn't mean it, I swear!"

"...Hermione? What did you _do_?"

She said nothing; the door suddenly jolted open. Hermione jumped back from her mother. A bit in fright, a bit in surprise.

"Hermione!"

She ducked her head, _"I didn't do it on purpose..."_

"_John?"_ Olivia whispered in uncertainty. Her nerves rattled more than before.

"The Jameson twins are both in the hospital. Took a spill down the hill, their mother said. Not to worry, Olivia. It doesn't seem she knows about Hermione. Still," he looked at his daughter. Her eyes were downcast, looking upon her scuffed and muddied buckled black shoes. "Hermione, I need to know what happened."

She shook her head.

"Hermione!"

"I just turned and waved my hand at them, to get them away! They pushed me down, and Harry kicked me in the side, I was scared. So I rolled a bit away and yelled, "get away from me!". My hands were in front of me, and then, they got thrown back suddenly. I don't know what happened! I don't know how I did it! I just wanted them to leave me alone! I hate them! I hate that they always hit me, push me and that they call me names!"

"Hermione, love!" Olivia threw her arms around her daughter, her eyes burning with tears as she hugged her tightly. Pulling her in as close as she could, she held her as she heaved heavy breaths, crying into her arms. Her daughter. Her precious, scared, _magickal_, daughter. "John, perhaps we should move?"

"Of course," he shook his head and frowned, "we'll just up and relocate every time she has an outburst? That's the option we're going to go with, Liv? When it comes to Hermione, you lose all sense. You realize this, yes?"

Olivia narrowed her eyes. Her husband seemed to feel that he was growing too close to dangerous territory as he lifted both his hands in exasperation and exhausted defeat. "She's different,"

"Well, that's certainly one thing we can agree on." He eyed his _daughter_ and sighed, "I'll start looking into real-estate. It's early in the year, so the market is red with homes to buy." Making to walk away from his wife and daughter, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, "Hermione..."

Blotchy cheeks and tearful brown eyes turned up from her mother's arms.

"Would you like to help me pick out a new home? One that's far away from the Jameson twins?" He watched her eyes light up. Glancing down at the safe arms holding her, she carefully dislodged herself from her mother before walking towards her father, who crouched down and lifted her into his arms. When all was said and done, she was _his_ daughter. No matter how different she was. No matter how scared he might sometimes feel. He and Olivia chose to be her parents, and so...that was what he'd be. "What do you think, one story, two?"

"Story? Like a book?"

"No, like how big the house is. One floor or two."

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her school uniforms sleeve, "two...and no pink!" The bedroom she'd had for seven years had gone through only the slightest of changes, new beds and, toys a desk and books added to her ever-growing collection as an advent adolescent reader. The only thing that hadn't changed since her infancy was the cotton candy pink her mother had so graciously painted her walls. Hermione had a theory that the fluffy white clouds that bordered her walls wouldn't be quite so bad to look at it weren't for the taffy colored paint.

"I think we can manage that," he laughed a bit, glancing at his wife, who seemed a bit awestruck by how vocally her daughter had just expressed her disliked of the _lovely _color she'd chosen back in her babe years.

"Can we have a cat too?"

"A cat?" He chuckled, "maybe, not now, though. Don't get too needy dearest. Let's focus on relocation first, and we can go from there."

"Alright then, so, a _two-story_ house, with _no pink_…and…a tall fence?"

Now that was an idea. John looked thoughtfully at his daughter; she didn't want them to have to move again. Her bouts of magickal slipups were by the handfuls, and he could understand her worry with neighbors. "I think we can find something like that, or maybe something out int the countryside a bit." Settling at his desktop, he moved the mouse and started to pull up local real estate. It wouldn't be a quick process, but it was a process. Just one more trial to overcome.

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1988**

September 19th was normally a day of celebration in the Granger household. There was no greater joy for a parent than that of bringing a smile to their child's face. Especially one who was so frequently troubled by unknown powers and untapped potential. Olivia looked upstairs with a small frown firmly laid out across her lips. "John dear, have you seen Hermione? She's not in her room, and I don't recall seeing her come downstairs this morning?"

"Strange. You've checked outside?"

Shaking her head, Olivia walked towards the backdoor while John parted in the hall and made his way to the front door. It was always a task to find the girl when he was off on her own. They could look for hours, and unless she wanted to, they'd not be seeing her. No, they would continue their search with no sign of their daughter. There was an emotional weight on Olivia's shoulder. One that only grew heavier as she thought over the growing hardships her daughter seemed to be going through. She tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but both she and John had listened in on her frustrated rants in the privacy of her room. Seen the bursts of uncontrolled magick lay waist to lamps that miraculously repaired themselves in her fear of getting in trouble. They were always around to see it, to hear it, never did they step in to help though. What could they do? She was a whole different breed, an enigma with adolescent hormones. Preteen emotional tendencies didn't mesh well with untrained magick.

"Mum!"

Olivia rounded the corner of the house in the backyard as she heard her daughter call out to her. Finding her daughter kneeling on the ground, "what's it you've got there?" she asked.

"A bird flew into my window, I think...it's dead?"

Glancing around her daughter, she took in the bird and crouched beside Hermione. Reaching a finger out, she grazed the bluebird and watched it twitch and shake itself off. "In shock, dear. Nothing to worry about." She smiled, pulling her hand back from the bird, she turned her eyes to her daughter and was surprised to see that she didn't look to be all that happy. "Ah, it's your birthday, little one. You're turning nine! Let's go eat breakfast; then we're going out for some family time, love."

"Right!" She stood and ran inside.

Olivia sighed, her attention drawn back to the bird. She brought her finger to it and frowned when it didn't move as it had a moment ago. "I was wrong..." slipping her apron off, she lifted the bird and deposited it into the trash, not wanting her daughter to see it there when they got back.

Their day was a bright beacon in the anxiousness of growing magick and fear. Grinning madly, Hermione looked around at the felines and dogs, different breeds of all types.

"Dear, maybe a pet would do her well,"

"I'd rather not get her a cat. She's already performing strange bouts of magic, why encourage her with the age-old familiar."

Olivia swatted her husband on the arm, eliciting a chuckle from him as he placed said arm around her shoulder. "A friend would do her well,"

"Human friend, yes."

It was sad, but in the countryside, they'd moved out of the way of neighbors and traffic. The need to protect the magical girl they'd both come to love and, in some ways, fear, had become their biggest priority. Homeschooling her, she had a more comprehensive range of growth, and her subjects branched out in many areas, with both parents being fascinated in different fields of education. Knowledge, however, came with a price. In her growing intelligence, she was always alone—no neighbors, no school friends, no social life at all. A pet would probably make it worse, in John's _honest_ opinion. However, he honestly did believe that she needed a real person in her life. He simply didn't trust her not to hurt another child accidentally. "I'm sure, one day soon, Hermione will be surrounded by friends who love her and cherish her. Let's hold off on a pet until she's thirteen, and if by then she still wants one, I'll oblige. For now, let her focus on her studies. Something to concentrate on will help her control her emotions too."

"Like an instrument, dancing or drawing?"

He nodded, though gave no indication to which one he thought might suit his daughter. She wasn't the dancing type, too expressive, and she'd rather indulge in a book than hurt her toes in heels or slippers. Instruments had a variation, and while he thought she would enjoy it, he couldn't see her caring much for it. Perhaps, she'd see the benefit of learning an instrument. Classy, dignifying, yet utterly dull. She already stayed inside all the time, why enforce her to continue hiding away while practicing. Art, on the other hand, he had no talent in art, nor did his wife; however, if he could encourage it, place the idea in her head. She may enjoy it, take it outside and delve into a world of charcoals and pastels—anything to get her out in the sun.

"Hermione, shall we continue to the museum?"

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1990**

Loud screaming, heavy footsteps. As aforementioned, Hermione had her bad days among the few good, and this was one of the bad.

"You're bleeding! What is this? Your window, John!" Olivia tried to make her way closer to her daughter but was suddenly pushed back by an unseen force. "Ah! Hermione~! Hermione!"

Hermione turned her eyes onto her mother and father, who came into sight. Thrusting her hand out quickly in front of her, the door of her bedroom slammed shut. Staring for a moment at the closed door, she brought her uninjured hand to the one bleeding and cradled it in her lap. Tears continued to fall, but she'd stopped screaming. Her mother and father pounding on her bedroom door, demanding she let them in, was the only noise left. She wanted silence. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her room, imagining that she was the only one there it didn't help. She could still hear them. "I'M FINE!" She yelled out, "I'll fix the window! Just...let me be..."

"_I don't care about the window, Hermione! Let me in, let me see too your injuries!"_

"_Hermione, open the door!"_

Between the two, she could hear the bubbling annoyance in her fathers' voice. True he always felt a bit exasperated about her magick, he was more the no-nonsense type, if she were honest. That's what made him her favorite, but he didn't seem to share those sentiments. Not that she thought he didn't love her! No, no, no, she knew he did; however, she also knew he felt a bit cautious around her.

No petty arguments. Don't yell at her! Will she be upset if I say this? Is it okay to take her here? What if she uses _magic_?

There was always an underlined sense of fear where her father and mother were concerned, but her mother wasn't quite so good at hiding it. She was expressive and very emotional. Perhaps, much like herself. Whereas, her father was controlled and calculating; he kept his thoughts carefully tucked away when it came to her.

"Dad...please..." her voice sounded almost unfamiliar to her; she hadn't realized how raw it had become while screaming. "I will come downstairs in a few minutes...just, give me a moment."

The pounding paused, and finally, _"ten minutes. Be downstairs, or I'll take an ax to your door."_

She smiled at the idea of her father wielding an ax to plow down her magically enforced door. Not that she felt confident that she'd done much more than slam the stupid thing in her parents' faces. Still, it was enough to make her smile. The blood had started to dry in her hand, along her arms. She looked it over curiously. "I must have done something wrong..." Not paying too much mind to the glass shards on the ground, she took a deep and calming breath before standing, focusing on the window, she pictured the window whole and watched as the shards reconstructed themselves quickly and neatly. Turning, Hermione started on her way to the bathroom. She pushed the jarred door aside with her blood-free foot and brought her hand up in a wave. The water turned on with the motion, and she gave a small smile.

Simple things, she'd gotten accustomed to doing. Fix what you broke. Isn't that a cardinal rule? It was easy enough, so long as she knew exactly how it was before she'd broken it. She couldn't return things to their _former glory_ or change their composition. It was a bit like science, or maybe she'd find her similarities in the Medieval Mavericks of the science community_, Alchemists_. The thought that she might be able to one day learn about that topic had her pause, the cold water biting down on her cuts as she wondered if there was Magick to Alchemy. Or perhaps it was just another science, and Magick had nothing to do with it.

"I couldn't possibly be the only one with these..._talents_." The blood circled down the porcelain drain. She thought back to what had caused the cuts along her arm, not but a moment ago. _'It's just a matter of imagination, right? I only wanted to make it appear as though it was sunny outside. The fog is so dreary, and the clouds make everything gray. I'll need to practice while mum and dad aren't around.'_

She reached up and took the towel on the silver ring, drying her cuts and scratches carefully before pressing down on the faucet. Walking to her door, she glanced around her room and made sure everything was back the way it was before her miscalculation. _'Oh, blast!'_ She waved her hand at the spots of red on her floor and watched as they pulled from the carpet into almost a bead size sphere. As she eyed it, she couldn't help but think how beautiful the crimson liquid was. Holding her hand out, she caught the bead of blood and frowned.

"_Well, not what I was expecting..."_ she rolled the hardened jewel in-between her fingers. Pocketing it, she started downstairs to set her mother's worries at ease.

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1991**

On this bright, sunny, and very windy day, Hermione was seated outside with her father beside her. Curled up on the cushioned rocking bench with a pencil in hand. Hermione trailed the lead on the sketchpad in her lap as John rocked the bench too and fro. Her eyes settled on the red Cardinal that was perched right atop their fence.

"Hermione, you've got a letter in the post."

That wasn't normal. Hermione was homeschooled, had no friends, only socialized with her mother and father. Who would be writing her? She looked away from her rough sketch of the bird, eyeing the letter in her fathers' hand as he took it from her mother. Was it junk mail? Her mother often complained when the mailbox was full of useless _junk mail_.

"Strange," John held it out to his daughter, "I think you should read it. It seems the type of thing someone with your gifts would get."

That snatched her attention, rather efficiently if she were honest. "Something concerning my _gift_?" She asked, sitting up and holding her hand out for the letter. Her father gave a small nod, handing the note over as he did. Reading it aloud, she spoke clearly so that her parents heard her, "Miss. Hermione J. Granger, the Second Bedroom Upstairs on the Right…1002 Cherry Way, Horton Village, Berkshire, Slough. That's quite the address..." she turned the letter over and gave careful consideration to the wax seal. The scarlet red wax embossed with the crest of a uniquely crafted shield divided into four sections, in each section an animal. Top left housed a lion, the top right a snake, bottom left, what looked to be a badger, and the last part in the bottom right was a bird of some kind. Overtop the shielded crest, _Hogwarts_ was neatly scrawled. _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_ was below it. "That's Latin, right?" She tilted the seal so that her father could read it.

Laughing, John gave a small shake of his head, "yes, indeed. Say's "never tickle a sleeping dragon," praise the heavens that we've none of _those_ flying around."

Arguably, a good point. Hermione couldn't imagine the kind of devastation such a giant and temperamental beast of myth might cause. Peeling the wax back, she pulled the letter from its sleeve and unfolded the old parchment. It read as follows:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL**

_**of **_**WITCHCRAFT **_**and**_** WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
**_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_Dear Miss. Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st. Should you accept admission, a Hogwarts Professor will be around by week's end to confer with you in greater detail regarding all your inquiries._

_Yours sincerely,_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

Her parents looked on at her as she considered the words, both peering slightly over to read the contents of the letter silently before her mother finally spoke. "A school of magic! Splendid!"

"It's certainly convenient. How did they know I had magic? Or where I lived..."

"Magic?" John supplied with a grin.

Rolling her eyes ever so boldly at her father, "obviously. Look here, where will we find any of this?" She eyed the list critically, "work robes? A pointed hat? Dragonhide gloves?"

"Dragonhide?!"

The letter was snatched from her hand. She laughed at the expressions her parents shared. Just a moment ago, her father had commented on the good graces of dragons not soaring around England, and here she required a pair of gloves made from the very same creatures hide. What irony.

"Let us reply and send this back."

"How? Where is the address?"

"Oh, it says Owl here," Olivia smiled, "Then let us hand it over to an owl."

Both John and Hermione eyed her in contemplation. One wondered if being around magick may have side effects. The other, if she'd always been this mad.

"Don't give me that look; there was an owl out in front when I checked the post." She started inside, both husband and daughter followed.

**-x-x-x-**

**(One Week Later)**

Time passed slowly for the enthralled and enamored Hermione Granger. Placing down a blue pastel, she grabbed a dirty, multicolored cloth and whipped her blue fingers on it before taking a drink from the orange juice across from her. Setting the glass down, she paused as a _**CRACK **_sounded from out front her house. Pushing her chair back, she started towards the door just as the doorbell rang clear. "Coming," she said, though it was unnecessary. She'd already been at the door when the bell went off. Pulling the door open, a silent gasp, her eyes widened a fraction, _'a witch, I'd wager a guess.'_ She smiled, "you must be a Professor from Hogwarts."

"That is correct, Miss. Granger. I am the Deputy Headmistress and your Transfigurations professor, Minerva McGonagall. You may call me Professor McGonagall."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what Transfigurations was, though the name gave off some sort of a hint in the word _transfigure_. She felt convinced that there was more to it than altering or changing the shape of something. "Please, do come in. I'll gather mum and dad in the sitting room."

"Thank you," the woman walked in, green robes billowing majestically around her as she carried herself inside and towards the living room. Hermione's eyes followed her, ever curious about the older adult, though she kept her quandaries to herself for the time being. Shutting the door, she made her way upstairs and stole her father and mother from the study. Both were going over their workload for the next week. However, they'd been quick to put down their work to greet the Professor downstairs.

Minerva, as she'd told Hermione's parents to call her, and they did ask. Was what the Grangers would call _stern_. A proud woman, with a practical sense of dignity about herself: from the way she sat, to the manner she spoke, she was the very definition of reputability and order.

There had been a series of questions made by her mother and father, surprising Minerva by how easily they'd taken the news and how readily they served their problems.

"_Concerning Hermione's magical outbursts, that's normal?"_ Her mother asked in uncertainty and worry.

"It's normal for children of the magical community to have bouts of accidental magic."

"_Shattering windows and such?"_

"When frustrated or upset. With no conduit, magic will find its release. That is why we take these children in at eleven and teach them what we can. It's completely normal."

Hermione could practically hear her mother's and fathers' thoughts. _Normal_. The word had never been one they'd used to describe their daughter. It was unthinkable, and while she was undoubtedly a typical magical child in Minerva's book, she doubted that she could ever be normal by her parent's definition.

By the end of her visit, Minerva had left in their hands the address of a _Diagon Alley_. Along with a letter for the pub and innkeeper of the _Leaky Cauldron_.

"This will be good for you, Hermione. Learning to control your gifts." Her father patted her on the shoulder before returning upstairs to his office. _"We'll head to that "Leaky Cauldron" place tomorrow."_

Turning to the kitchen, she stepped towards the calendar on the wall and eyed the date. It was July 30th, Tuesday. Taking a black pen, she wrote a quick but neat memo before circling it and smiling to herself.

_**Going to Diagon Alley!**_

"I'm so ready for a change."

**-x-x-x-**

**Me: Hello, readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. Please take the time to leave a comment. Feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged. Tough love and such. I do not condone flaming, but constructive criticism is always enlightening. If you follow me on Facebook, I am frequently on Granger Enchanter Survivors 18+ and love hearing from all of you at any point in the day. Ideas, suggestions, etc. Much love, Akuma!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Great Rite of Old**_

_**Summary: Hermione is excited to receive her letter from Hogwarts. Finally, something explaining what she and her parents have known for years, but is it so simple? Her past is more precarious a secret than anyone could ever imagine, and the darkness buried in her bloodline isn't kept easily from spying eyes. "Welcome to Hogwarts...Miss. Granger."**_

_**Pairing: Possible Blaise/Hermione – Theo/Hermione (opinions welcomed as I've never written or read either.) Yes, Blaise/Hermione/Theo is also possible. Let's age her a bit before making a choice, though.**_

_**A/N: Thankful to my reviewers for taking the time to review! I will work hard to make this story a different worthwhile read.**_

**-x-x-x-**

_The old believe everything; the middle-aged suspect everything; the young know everything.  
\- Oscar Wilde_

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1991**

**-31 July-**

"A school of magic sounds fascinating, think they'll have a parent's day? We could come to meet the staff and see your classes and such."

"I can't imagine a magickal school being open to the non-magickal community."

"I'm just thinking; it would be interesting to see this school of yours." John pointed towards a broom shop and smiled, "so witches do travel by broom."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "dad."

"What? No worse than your mother."

True, her mother was peering inside an apothecary shop at vials and cauldrons. Her hands held a notepad as she took down prices, both highs and lows. They were making their way towards the bank at the far end of the magickal shopping alley. Her mother was putting together a list of prices so to calculate the total for her supplies. They would be opening an account for Hermione.

"Should we buy you a broom too?"

"Letter say's first years can't bring their own broom."

Placing a hand on the redwood broom handle, John looked curiously at it. "How come we never see witches airborne? I'm sure I'd have noticed a bunch of people flying on broomsticks."

"Dad, I think mum's done," She pulled at her fathers' shirt while watching her mother make her way back towards them.

"Wow, this is a whole other world." Olivia grinned, "shall we set up your account? Minerva explained that the Goblins at the bank were strange at a glance, but nothing for us to worry over."

Hermione took her mother's hand and stepped out of the way of a tall and dignified looking man with long platinum blonde hair. His eyes cast a glance in her direction before he returned his eyes forward and continued his way.

"...aristocrats. Even in the Wizarding World." John chuckled, "guess every society has its hierarchy. Even magickal ones."

**-x-x-x-**

"Your key," a raspy, scratchy voice spoke in nothing short of annoyance. "You must bring it in with you to get inside your vault. Extra security is optional, from spells, charms, and jinxes, to dragons and manticores."

"Wait, that's a security option?" Olivia frowned, "you have manticore and dragons _here_?"

"They protect our lower vaults. The vaults of our oldest clients reside below."

'_The most influential families are below...rich, powerful...dangerous even.' _Hermione followed _Stonebrawl_ towards a cart. Her parents kept up beside her as they took in their surroundings, right up until Stonebrawl motioned for them to climb inside the cart.

"You want us to get inside the cart? I mean, it looks a bit unstable."

"Mum,"

Olivia frowned, "fine, fine." She stepped in first, then Hermione, and finally, John settled beside his daughter. Placing an arm behind her and catching his wife's shoulder in a firm grip before the cart was suddenly jolted forward and tearing through the banks underground at an alarmingly unsteady speed. The winding, riveting turns, and tosses were plenty enough for her parents. Both making silent promises to themselves never to climb into the rickety cart again. No, no, they'd make sure their daughter had money enough in her _vault_, but no longer would they accompany her _to_ the said vault.

As it jolted to a halt suddenly, Stonebrawl climbed out and held his hand out, "lantern!"

John climbed out carefully and unhooked the lantern before handing it to the Goblin. Taking his daughter's hand, he helped her and Olivia out before the three turned back to the Goblin. It was all a sight to behold. Nothing he could ever dream to imagine up on his own. Hell, Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _was nothing in comparison to the vision of fantasy before and behind them. When the newly acquired key opened the vault, he couldn't help peering in with his daughter and wife. Not much, indeed. He eyed the pile of gold, silver, and bronze coin. "Where's your coin purse, dear?" They'd had the currency explained in detail, placing one thousand pounds worth of _Galleons, Sickles, and Knut's_ to their daughters' name with a monthly deposit of one hundred and fifty pounds for the buildup over the next seven years.

Olivia held out an empty coin purse for her daughter and smiled as Hermione walked inside and took a hand full of gold coins before distributing them into the coin purse.

**-x-x-x-**

"So, should we go left and circle back to the door front of Gringotts?" John pointed over his shoulder towards the shop closest to them, left to the bank they'd just left.

"It's an animal shop!" Hermione took off without her mother and father, both sharing a look as John realized his mistake.

"Just get her a pet! Look," Olivia lifted the paper in her hand, "students may bring an owl, cat, or toad."

"...toad..." John shook his head, "that's just..." he paused before an enormous purple toad and frowned before passing the cage and stepping inside. "Hermione, dear, don't decide on a pet quite yet. There was that Owl shop down the way too."

"Owls are quite a treat," a woman around the corner came up to them, smiling as she took them by surprise. She glanced down at Hermione, "use em to deliver letters and packages, the best for post, I'd say! Oh, but companion wise, a nice feline might suit you better."

Olivia nodded, having been waiting for the woman's sales pitch. No shopkeep will promote another shop before their own.

"We'll look around," John smiled politely. Letting Hermione guide him about the shop, he pointed at a ball of bouncing fluff and smiled at his wife. She reached forward and placed her finger curiously through the cage and smiled as the fluffy _thing_ rubbed up against her finger. "What a curious creature."

"Muggles, are you?" The woman chimed. "Those be puffkins! Sweetest little things, though no practical use. They certainly do make charming little pets for toddlers, and of course, they are a joy to keep around as an adult."

Hermione laughed as her mother became smitten with the fluffy creature before her father pulled her away. They vacated the store with several cats on Hermione's mind, though she'd give a gander at the Owls Emporium first before making any decisions.

"Gambol and Japes...is a...toy shop?"

"Joke shop, look it, says so there." Hermione pointed at a window sign.

"Moving on then." Olivia ushered her daughter forward, not interested in the idea of such distractions hindering her daughter's educational growth. Not bothering to glance about the second-hand robe shop, they made their way to _Ollivanders_. "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C" she pushed open the door, and the dimly lit room was quickly diagnosed as cluttered and small in dimension. However, the supply list mentions that all students are _required_ to bring a wand.

"Welcome! Welcome! What is your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Granger,"

The man tilted his head curiously a bit, "is it? Strange that you seem oddly familiar."

Olivia and John shared a look of worry and uncertainty, though Hermione smiled and laughed a bit at the older man.

"I'm positive, Hermione Jean Granger, that's my name."

"As you say," he returned her smile with one of his own. "Miss. Granger then, shall we measure you wand arm."

"Assuming that's the same as my writing arm," she lifted her left hand and stretched it out a bit as he waved a wand, and a magical measuring tape started at all angles of her arm.

"Very good, very...good!" He started towards the shelf behind him, eyeing a couple boxed before carefully pulling a long grey box out. Removing the lid, and lying it down on the counter, he pulled the wand out and held it out to her. "Nine inch, red oak, and unicorn hair."

"_Ah, Unicorns!" _Olivia whispered to her husband in awe.

Hermione carefully to the wand in hand, "...what now?"

"My dear, wave it at that vase, and we can see how it reacts to your magic."

Hermione nodded and pointed the wand at the vase, only a series of chaotic vine-like cracks to begin running up along the vessel.

"Oh, goodness, not quite what we're looking for, no. No." He took the wand back, placing it in the box and back on the shelf before moving a few rows down and running his eyes over another, pulling a dark violet box out and placing it down. "Ten and three quarters, vine wood and dragons heartstring."

She watched him open the bok and reveal a finely carved wand, much lighter a wood than the last she held. She lifted it towards the same vase, and at first, it looked as if it were trying to spark before the light of the wand ultimately fizzled out.

"It's alright, dear; this is a process all first-years must go through."

"Hermione, we'll be outside while you finish up here."

Hermione nodded to her mother, who disliked being confined in dark and musky places, much like these small magickal shops. Hermione personally felt at home in the dusty wall to wall shop of wands, though she'd have preferred it if it were filled with books instead.

"Let us try...this one here. Eleven and a quarter-inch yew, with dragons heartstring."

'_Come on,'_ she lifted her hand and picked the golden brown and umber ombre wand up, her fingers settling comfortably along the end of the wand before she waved it at the vase. Her thoughts on reconstructing the vase to the way it was before her first attempt. Her eyes lit up as the cracks along the vase disappeared, and the flowers inside bloomed brightly with the light pale mist of magic that fell over them.

"Splendid! Marvelous!"

"How much, sir?"

"Seven galleons, my dear, _Miss. Granger_." He smiled, "how strange an inconsistency, though surely I know your magic. From where I can't be sure...but...it's very old."

"My magic is?"

"Miss. Granger," he accepted the gold coins and laid them down upon on his counter before providing her with his absolute attention, "I have seen many a gifted witch and Wizard come through my doors. Those with old magic often walk the most remarkable paths."

"You think I'll be a remarkable witch, then?"

"I suppose we will see."

**-x-x-x-**

"Strange man, that Olivander," John said as he carried the bulk of his daughter's purchases. Making headway to _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_, he paused and pointed to the brooms a bit further ahead. "I'm going to go and look at the brooms again,"

"Mum, you should go with him."

Olivia looked torn, glancing at her husband who was a bit more like a child in a candy store, than her eleven-year-old daughter, soon to be twelve. "Right, hold onto your coins in case we don't get there in time to pay, but I'll try and drag him from the brooms. He acts like those brooms are cars."

Hermione watched her mother chase after her father and smiled, happy to be left to her own devices.

"Hogwarts?"

Barely a foot inside the shop and a woman had already spotted her. "Yes, a first-year."

"Lovely, lovely. Come along then. I've another one who I just set up." Guided to the back, Hermione thanked the woman as she helped her onto a stool. Lifting her arms as instructed, the woman heard the shop bell jingle and sighed, "what a busy day it is."

As she disappeared from her sight, she glanced to her right and noticed the pale blonde boy next to her was eyeing her questionably. "May I help you?"

"..." he turned away silently, then, "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, that's my name, and you are?"

"Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Of course it is," he smirked.

She couldn't be sure, but he resembled the man she and her father had seen earlier. "Your father, does he have long hair, a similar color to yours?"

"All Malfoy males have this hair color," he scoffed as if it were common knowledge, and perhaps it was. "Did you see him?" A curious undertone slipped in, something of a hopeful murmur that he probably didn't wish anyone to hear.

"Earlier, yes. The resemblance is uncanny."

A soft pink touched the boy's cheeks, flustered, happy? "Are you here shopping with anyone?"

"Both my mother and father. They went back to the brooms while I take care of my robes and fitting."

"Are your parents getting you one?" Draco seemed impressed at the idea, "I'm trying to talk my father into it, but the rule against first-years bringing a broom."

"Another one come along." Madam Malkin grinned as she ushered another child over.

Hermione watched a mussed hair boy step up on the other side of her. He looked nervous, a bit scared if she were honest. It occurred to her that like herself, he too must be raised by Muggles. Turning her attention back to Draco, she shook her head, "actually, I was telling him that I couldn't bring a broom. He was pressing me to get one, though."

"You should let him!"

She laughed at how animated the blonde was over the prospect of her father buying her a broom. Turning to the other boy, she smiled, "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Draco Malfoy. May I ask what your name is?"

"...um, Harry Potter."

"_Whoa!"_

She hadn't liked the name Harry, for as long as she could remember, "It's a pleasure," her tone had dropped, and she quickly realized that it hadn't gone unnoticed. "Sorry, I was thinking of someone. Have you finished up most of your shopping so far?"

"I think so, yes." Harry lifted his arms as Madam Malkin moved them.

"Do the two of you have any idea which house you'll be in?"

'_House?'_ Hermione frowned at that, "which do you think you'll be in?"

A smug expression found Draco's face, his lips curling into a grin as he turned a bit, "I'll be in Slytherin, of course. It's the best house of them all."

"I guess I haven't given it much thought," she watched his eyes widen a bit before he schooled them.

"Well, hopefully, you're in Slytherin. It says a lot for one's character."

"How do you mean?"

Harry leaned in and listened carefully.

"Well, Slytherin house is for students who are ambitious and cunning, those who are resourceful and achievement-oriented. Most are of a pure lineage too. A great many strong leaders came from Slytherin house. You know, Merlin was said to have been a Slytherin too!"

'_Merlin?! Well, why am I not surprised. Those qualities fit the description of the 'fabled' sorcerer.'_

"Mother says that Slytherins have a highly developed sense of self-preservation. That means that Slytherins tend to hesitate before acting, to weigh all possible outcomes before deciding what should be done. Unlike Gryffindors."

Hermione had absolutely no idea about the _houses_ at Hogwarts; she hadn't heard of them at all. However, the boy beside her was the son of that aristocrat that they'd seen in Diagon Alley and making a bad impression wouldn't do her any favors. It would be best if she gathered information subtly before saying something that could mark her for the whole of her school year.

"Gryffindors are headstrong; they rarely think things through. All brawn and no brain, if you know what I mean. I can't say it's all bad, mind you. The house itself is supposed to be for those who value honor and courage, those who are daring and reckless. I was told that Gryffindors could be quick-tempered too."

Hermione couldn't help but turn her nose up a bit at that. _'Certainly, despite Gryffindor's good qualities, Slytherin sounds more level-headed. I will see if there's a book on the houses at Hogwarts when I go grab my books.'_

"Who told you that?" Harry asked, curious as to where this information came from, and if it was worth tucking away.

"My Godfather did. He's a professor at Hogwarts, teaches Potions. Oh, when you get your books, read up on your Potions. He's not the friendliest of Professors, and he's pretty hard to impress."

"...Slytherin sounds like the preferred route for someone looking to succeed in life."

"Ravenclaw isn't so bad, but I'd toss myself over Gringotts if I were placed in Hufflepuff."

Hermione waited for him to continue, and he didn't let her down.

"While father says Ravenclaws can be a bit snobbish; they are among the most intelligent of witches and wizards. They favor qualities of learning, wit, and wisdom, those of individuality and acceptance. My father has a book that goes into a lot of detail on the four houses and their founders. I could bring it with me to school when it starts if you want. It's got more information than that of _Hogwarts, A History_. As for Hufflepuff. It's where they throw the students who don't fit anywhere else. Those who aren't cunning and resourceful, brave and daring, intelligent, and witty, they go into Hufflepuff, with the favored _hard-working_ and _patient_. Those who are kind and fair end up in Hufflepuff. Well, I guess I can think of at least one talented Wizard that came from Hufflepuff if I'm trying."

"..." Harry and Hermione waited to see if he came up with anyone.

"Oh, Newton, Scamander! He's the writer of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Which is also one of our school books this term."

"Mr. Malfoy, you're done now, dear!"

Draco grinned and jumped down from the stool, turning back to Harry and Hermione, "I'll see the two of you on the train,"

"Yeah! We can meet at the train door if you want!"

"Will do." He turned to Harry, pausing for a moment before he spoke again, "you too?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'll be there."

Draco smirked and left the store with a bounce to his step.

"...did you follow all that?"

Hermione laughed, "yes, I did. While I wasn't aware that there were different houses at Hogwarts, I could keep up with everything he said. We, the students, that is, will be sorted by our qualities and traits. I wonder how we're sorted." She looked to the seamstress, "Madam, do you know?"

"Hehe, the Sorting Hat will put you where you belong. Nothing to worry about, dearie. Just place the hat atop your head, and it sees into your mind."

'_That's a bit unnerving. I'm pretty sure if someone reads my mind, my thoughts won't be well-received.' _She bit her lip as the doors opened, and her parents came in. "Girls need their privacy; it's too bad; there's no magic to keep people out of my thoughts."

The woman laughed and shook her head before holding her hand out for Hermione to step down from the stool, "there is Occlumency, but it's an advanced form of mental shielding that's as ancient as it is rare."

"Mind shielding?" Hermione smiled, "that sounds fascinating."

"I can think of a book at the top of my head that you might be interested in, _Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Ledilimensy_, by _Franciscus Fieldwake_."

Hermione handed over payment for her school robes and smiled, "thank you for the help. Harry, I'll see you and Draco in front of the Train doors!"

"Right, see you later!"

She left with her parents, and they headed off to their last destination before she decided on a cat or owl.

"A friend?" Olivia smiled, "two of them at that?"

John didn't look quite as pleased, "two of them, both boys from the sounds of it."

"Don't be like that. I only just met Draco and Harry. I think it's nice knowing I won't be completely on my own on the train ride there." Taking her parents hands in hers, she swung her arms back and forth, "can I grab some other books while we're shopping."

Olivia laughed a bit, "aside from the ones on your school list?"

"I don't see why not," John stopped at Flourish and Blotts, "look around, take your time. It'll be a while before we come back. I think I might pick up a book or two while I'm at it too."

"Goodness, are you going to grab a wand as well?"

"Maybe," John laughed as he placed his arm around his wife's waist. "I'm just curious, don't fault me, love." Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her cheek before walking around with her by his side.

A small smile found Hermione as she watched her parents. Things were getting better, right? Now that her parents knew she could learn to control her magic, things were getting better. _'I can do more now,' _she started searching the store, asking for specific topics before finding all her schoolbooks. The month to follow would be spent reading, learning, and practicing all that she could before classes started. She _had_ to learn the customs, though. The culture. The _history_. She needed to know what she was talking about when she started school.

"Miss? Was there anything else you were looking for?"

"Did you have anything on the four houses?"

"The houses of Hogwarts or their founders?"

"...both."

He smiled, "a Ravenclaw in the making, I see."

"..."

He wandered ahead of her. She followed him with her schoolbooks in arms. Two books not on her list were set atop the stack. One, a book on Occlumency, another was a curious study tomb, _A Wizards Compendium of Dark Arts_,that had questionable spells and charms. Such spells and charms were not classified as _Dark Arts_ but was still referred to as the _Dark Arts_. She'd asked what the difference was, and the bookstore owner looked a bit thoughtful before answering.

"_There are three branches of Magickal Arts. White Arts, Dark Arts, and Black Arts. Somewhere along the way, the world confused the Dark Arts with Black Arts."_

He'd whispered so that only she could hear him. Promising that he would keep his eyes open for books on the topic of _Old Dark Arts_ for her, holding them for next term or until he saw her next. She was thankful for his willingness to assist her.

"Will this one do? It's a bit older than the others you'll find on the topic."

She took the thick, broad, leather-bound book in hand, it was heavily worn and seemed to be held together by a layer of magic as it didn't seem possible for it to be held together by much of anything else. "The Founders Four," she nodded, "this will be perfect to start with, thank you."

"As for the houses," he shook his head, "there is no way to define the four houses, as it's the students that make them, and the generations are ever-changing. The sorting hat might see inside of you may see that you are ambitious and resourceful, perfect for Slytherin, but if you never use your talents..."

"Are you ready, Hermione?"

Turning, she lifted her stack of books, "yeah!" Turning back to the book shopkeeper, she thanked him graciously as her father pulled out the galleons and sickles needed to pay down the purchase.

"My dear. Until next time, then."

"Come along, Hermione. You still need to decide on an Owl or a Cat, love."

"An Owl. This way, I can send posts, and I can make purchases from the bookstore here, right?" She asked curiously.

The owner laughed, "yes, you can."

"I'll make a monthly purchase then, thank you for the help!"

He waved her off as she left with her mother and father. Hermione made her way to Eeylops Owl Emporium. "Oh, how gorgeous, look, daddy!"

"An intelligent-looking hunter," he commented, eyeing the bird as it tilted its head curiously. He watched as Hermione took off inside the Emporium to look over the other owls. It would be another twenty minutes before she left the shop with a Peruvian Striped Owl for fifteen Galleons and a couple bags of Owl Treats.

"Need help, dear?" Olivia asked as she watched her husband shift items into the massive trunk he'd just purchased for their daughter. _**H.J. Granger **_was scrawled magically on the front and top as the purchase was finalized. Now John was placing books and her robes and equipment inside it before they left through the entrance in Muggle London.

"No, no, I've got it."

Hermione frowned, "I can help."

He glanced at his daughter and nodded his head, curiously, "how?"

"I think I can make it lighter; I just need to focus."

Olivia didn't seem so sure but took a step back as she watched her daughter raise a hand and close her eyes.

'_Focus, just focus.'_ She concentrated on the bulk weight of the trunk that was now filled with her school things. Her father started to lift it, focusing on a pillow, on the weight of the one in her room, she pushed her magic along the trunk. A drop of sweat fell along her brow as a chuckle sounded.

"That's perfect, love. You should be good, yes?"

Opening her eyes, she carefully lowered her hand, in case her magic faltered and smiled when her dad nodded at her small success. "I did it!" She grinned up at her mother, who looked relieved that the trunk didn't implode or something equally devastating.

"Perfect, love. Now, let's head on home. We've had a long day, and we need to get your father home before he disappears off to Quality Quidditch Supplies again."

"I'll be buying one next year. I promise you that."

Walking from the Leaky Cauldron, the family of three headed back to their car and home again. It would be a long next month, and Hermione could hardly wait for school to start. Seeing Draco again, and then there was Harry. She simply _couldn't_ wait.

**-x-x-x-**

**Me: Here is chapter two of the Great Rite of Old.**


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Great Rite of Old**_

_**Summary: Hermione is excited to receive her letter from Hogwarts. Finally, something explaining what she and her parents have known for years, but is it so simple? Her past is more precarious a secret than anyone could ever imagine, and the darkness buried in her bloodline isn't kept easily from spying eyes. "Welcome to Hogwarts...Miss. Granger."**_

_**Pairing: Possible Blaise/Hermione – Theo/Hermione (opinions welcomed as I've never written or read either.) Yes, Blaise/Hermione/Theo is also possible. Let's age her a bit before making a choice, though.**_

_**A/N: Thankful to my reviewers for taking the time to review! I will work hard to make this story a different worthwhile read.**_

**-x-x-x-**

"_Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose."  
__**\- Zora Neale Hurston**_

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1991**

**-12 August-**

The resounding _snap_ of a large and slightly weighted leather-bound book shutting shocked John into looking away from his newspaper. The headline of the Daily Express read in bold letters _**Diana's Secret Summit**_, a topic, perhaps, his wife may find interesting, he, not so much. "Something wrong, little witch?"

"In _Hogwarts, A History_, it only barely touches on the Founders of Hogwarts. Though, they highlighted how Salazar left when the four of them couldn't agree on the students admitted into Hogwarts. Its writer is notably biased, and you can read it in her depiction of the House Founder."

"What about that other book you got on the topic?" Shifting through the stack of books beside him, he lifted one, "The Founders Four,"

Hermione reached out and took it from her father. Her eyes were taking in the wear and tear of the old leather-bound book. Its golden umber toned pages were so old and fragile, the idea that they might if she applied too much pressure was a lingering thought. Careful, she opened the book and shifted forward past a couple of blank pages and the title page. Eyeing what passed as an authors' note, it was so old it hardly called for her attention. Still, diligent as she was, she read the note then turned to the first page. A uniquely drawn up vision of the lives of the four founders before they _founded_ Hogwarts, was eloquently defined on the archaic parchment. Every turn of the page told her more about the founders than the mandatory _Hogwarts, A History_, would have her know.

The passing minutes strayed quickly into hours before Olivia sauntered into the kitchen to find both her husband and daughter deeply enthralled in the old text. Both were leaning over the book, reading and pointing out tidbits of information here and there.

"Liv, there you are darling,"

"Me? John Dear, I thought you dead. You were supposed to join me on a conference call two hours ago."

"I was, wasn't I." John stretched his arms over his shoulders as he stood, placing his hand atop his daughter's head before walking over to his wife. "Forgive and forget?"

"Hardly," she smiled up at him, "what had you so distracted?"

He pointed back over his shoulder, "Hermione is studying up on the History of the founders of Hogwarts. We were reading about the Alchemist and Potions Magister, Salazar Slytherin. Before he was one of the founding fathers, he delved in tonics and remedies. Though practicing Dark Arts in secret, he tended to both magical and _muggle_ folk."

"Dark Arts?"

"It's a type of magic, mum," Hermione turned the page of the book in front of her, "it says that, during the witch burnings, he had decided that magic in the hands of muggle-born witches and wizards would be too dangerous."

Olivia nodded, "I could imagine. In those days, if there were even whispers of witchcraft, one would be burned at the stake." Stepping up to the dining room table, she lifted the newspaper with a frown, "a scandal? With Princess Diana? What rubbish!" Despite her strong feelings for the frontpage article, she settled into the seat John had earlier occupied before devouring every word that had been printed.

Hermione and her father shared a look of amusement as they had both lost Olivia's interest in a matter of seconds.

'_Salazar Slytherin first met Godric Gryffindor during their youth. An up and coming knight and hero among his village. With a great many things, neither could be seen to agree with one another. However, both young men saw that logic was panics prey, and there was an abundance of panic to go around. Forging a magical Wizards in Arms bond, they set out to build a sanctuary for those who showed to have similar talents with magic.' _Hermione shook her head, "in here they are depicted much like friends, brothers even."

"In literature and history, we see how division born of diversity, opinion, and belief can cause even the most patient of siblings to turn against one another," Olivia said, half paying attention, half absorbed in the article she was still reading.

Not that her mother didn't make a valid point. Hermione, at the top of her head, could list at least ten examples of siblings betraying one another. Greek Mythology, Medea killed her brother Apsyrtus to help Jason escape Colchis after he'd obtained the Golden Fleece. The blind God Höðr, in Nordic Mythology, was manipulated by Loki into killing his brother Baldur. Cain and Able! She didn't even need to delve into detail on the notoriously told biblical tale. Not really planning to go through every story she knew by heart, she did find distinct similarities in one. Roman Mythology had the tale of Romulus and Remus, twin brothers who founded the City of Rome, either before or after, Romulus killed Remus.

The funny thing about Myths, there was always a different way to spin the tale. What is certain, is that Remus and Romulus disputed the hill on which to place this new City, the verdict decided by auspiciously envisioned birds. The question concerning truth or deceit was whether Romulus killed his brother, if he was killed by Celer (Romulus's worker), or simply left the City to live out the remainder of his life in peace. Hermione stared at the old script in wonder. Which truth lay buried in these pages? Or was the truth even there? Would she find that Salazar was Remus and Godric was Romulus? Did they, too, have a falling out? A disagreement that shattered their bonds of friendship and _brotherhood_? And if so, what came of their dispute? Would this tale end in bloodshed and tears, the was so many Myths and tales before it had, or was there more to it?

"Hermione, it's getting late. Shower and get ready for bed."

Standing, Hermione closed and tucked the book under her arm.

"Ah uh," without even raising her eyes from the paper, Olivia snapped her fingers and pointed at the table, "leave the book."

Ignoring the subtle chuckle from her father, Hermione begrudgingly sat the book down on the table and marched off to her room upstairs.

**-x-x-x-**

**Yr. 1991**

**-31 August-**

It wasn't normal for a Saturday to be so busy in the Granger household. When Olivia woke early that morning, she'd expected her normal daily ritual to continue at least until after breakfast. Far be it for her daughter to agree to those terms. No, no. Hermione was not only up and dressed; she was in the middle of plugging in the hair straightener. Olivia shook her head as she pulled herself from the daze that waking often left her in. "Love, what are you doing?"

"I want to straighten my hair,"

"No,"

Hermione frowned, "just a little, mum!"

"No, and I'm not discussing this any further with you." She brought a hand to her daughter's unruly curls, "you have such beautiful hair, why would you ever want to ruin it?"

"It's an untamed rats' nest,"

Olivia smiled at the sneer of distaste on Hermione's face, though she still took the straightener from her daughter and unplugged it. "Finish brushing your hair and teeth, and I'll get breakfast started. Have you got your trunk and carryon together?"

"They are downstairs,"

Pulling her robe tighter around her, Olivia stifled another yawn as she watched her little girl fight with her hair. "What about Aero?"

Referring to the Owl that Hermione had bought during her first trip to Diagon Alley, she watched her nod, wincing as she yanked at the brush in her hair. "Downstairs," Hermione forced through clenched teeth.

Taking pity on her child, she took the brush from the tight vice-like grip, "don't, you'll pull your hair out."

"Maybe if I pull it all out, it'll grow back straight."

"Afraid it doesn't work that way, love. Now," she fixed Hermione's hair up into a wild ponytail, the curls flaring out dauntingly as she left a couple of untamable tendrils to frame her face. "Will this work?"

Hermione turned her head from side to side before smiling and nodding, "it'll work perfectly!"

"Good, now brush your teeth!"

**-x-x-x-**

"Are you sure this is right?" John eyed the stone wall with uncertainty. Platforms nine and ten on either side, the lingering instructions of _running directly into a wall_ were circulating his mind in loops. "Perhaps we should wait and see if someone else runs into it."

Olivia frowned at the way her husband had just worded that. "Dear, I don't think so."

"Mum, Dad, Professor McGonagall explained it in detail. We're here, let's go!" Pulling on her fathers' hand, she smiled when he shook his head before running headfirst into the wall with her trolly. Olivia and Hermione watched as he disappeared through the wall, both smiling before taking off in a run after him. The view on the other side was magnificent, magickal, and breathtakingly inspired.

"Oh, blimey!" Hermione gawked, the tube, a bright crimson red. On the Express door, the number 5972, underneath read _**King's Cross Station**_. She looked the length over, and further down was the train's name in larger scrawl, _**Hogwarts Express**_.

"Hermione, look," John pointed to the words on the door, and they watched them change. "Hogwarts Castle," he nodded his thanks to a young man who took the trolly from him, handing the own over, he watched as it was pushed off to the luggage cart. "Looks like they're about to leave."

Hermione was pulled into a tight hug by her mother, "write to us when you get there?"

Smiling, she nodded, "of course,"

"Hermione!"

Whipping around, Hermione smiled as her first friend waved from a window on the train. Lifting a hand, she smiled and turned to her dad. "That's Draco," she gave him a tight hug, "it'll go by before you know it." She reassured her parents, both giving into a chortle of humor.

"Run along; you've got an odyssey before you." John stepped away from his daughter and took Olivia's hand in his as she leaned against him. Watching his daughter as she started towards the train in a run, she stopped at the train door and looked back at them. Raising her hands over her head as she waved her farewell, finally boarding the train. The parents stayed and watched until the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the King's Cross station. Departing through the wall, the same way they'd entered.

**-x-x-x-**

"―and of course, I had to fight my father tooth and nail, but he finally relented."

Hermione laughed as she looked at the book in her hands over. "You're sure I can borrow it?"

"So long as you don't damage it, sure. My father was pretty convincing when he said he'd have my wand snapped if it came back in any other condition than what he gave it to me in." Draco nodded his head a bit to his left, "we're in here. Harry stayed to hold the compartment." Sliding the door open, he let Hermione enter first before following after her. Taking a seat across from her, he watched as she sat her bag down beside her and opened the book. "You don't have to read it now, do you?"

"I'm really curious about how Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor are depicted in this retelling. I read a curious one that placed them in an era of witch burnings, where they formed a Wizards Bond of Brotherhood. The actual name was, a Wizards in Arms Bond."

Draco frowned, "yeah, I read something similar in this one. Hogwarts, A History, doesn't talk any about it."

"No," she sneered, "it doesn't. It doesn't mention how they met or anything about their past. Only their achievements and how they supposedly had a falling out because of different views."

Harry shook his head and laughed, "you're really into the History of Hogwarts, aren't you. Is History your favorite subject, then?"

"I don't have a favorite; I like learning. Studying relaxes me. Knowing things, um, I don't know how to explain it." Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, Hermione closed the book and tapped it uncertainly. "I don't like looking senseless. If I study, I can avoid being made a fool."

"The opinions of others matter so much?"

"No, I wouldn't say they matter. However, if you are smart, you stay off the teachers' radar, and usually, no one suspects you to be responsible for troublemaking. I'd like to keep to myself if at all possible. Friends are fine, but no trouble, please."

"I'm good with that."

The door suddenly opened, "anything off the trolly dears?"

Draco glanced at the trolly and grinned, "two cauldron cakes,"

Watching the exchange of coin and sweet, Hermione eyed the quills curiously before shaking her head. "I don't eat sweets, thank you."

The woman smiled and turned her attention to Harry, "and you dearie?"

"Mn," he pointed out a couple of items curiously and paid for them, thank the woman with a hesitant smile. "I've never eaten anything like these. Chocolate Frogs, are they real?"

Squeamish at the thought of a real frog being dipped in chocolate, the thought only served to solidify her 'no sweets' policy.

"Dear Merlin, no! It's just a spell, Harry." Draco laughed, "that would ghastly."

'_Ghastly indeed.'_

It was hardly ten minutes later when the compartment door opened once more to reveal a nervous-looking boy around their age. Hermione caught his eyes, "can we help you?" Not trying to sound rude, she just wanted to get back to the story that Draco was regaling them. Having never seen a Quidditch match, hearing about the Quidditch World Cup that his father had taken him to last year was notably more interesting than talking about frogs.

"E-excuse me; I'm looking for my pet toad, Trevor. Have you seen him?"

Closing her eyes at the mention of _another_ amphibian, this elicited a soft chuckle from her two friends as Harry answered for them.

"Fraid not, sorry, mate."

The boy sighed, "thanks anyway," he said before shutting the door and returning to his search.

"Who brings a toad to school as a pet?" Shaking his head, he leaned back, "I don't even remember what I was saying."

"You were talking about the Quidditch World Cup last year,"

"Right! We camped out for five days during the finals! It was such a long match, but ultimately Scotland lost a rather bitter defeat to Canada. I can't wait for the next one!"

"When is the next one?" Harry asked. He wondered if he could manage to sneak away from his family to watch it, if it might be on the telly, well, no, that sounded silly even to him.

"In 1994, if I'm doing my math right. It's every four years. Are you two going to try out for the Quidditch team? I am. Father says I'll make a perfect Seeker."

"I think it'd be more interesting to watch. I might have an aversion to flying,"

Harry didn't look convinced, "flying or falling?"

"Both," she sneered.

**-x-x-x-**

Draco and Harry stepped out into the hall while Hermione changed. It was dark outside, and they'd been informed by one of the Prefects that they were close to Hogwarts. Their arrival time was about ten minutes now. Each was growing more excited with every minute. When they heard Hermione call out in excitement, the two rushed in to see her leaning towards the window and pointing. "Look!"

Draco and Harry moved in closer to her and stared out the window, eyes widening as they got their first glimpse of the school in the distance.

"_Magickal." _She whispered more to herself. Grinning ear to ear, she couldn't help the burst of excitement that gave in. The light above them brightened immeasurably before dimming. "Oops," she blushed as she glanced at the light above them.

"Fits of accidental magic?" Draco laughed, "it happens. I set my bed sheets on fire once when I was a tot. Mum nearly had a fit. It sent our house elf into a frenzy. Every time he'd put it out, I would set it on fire again."

Nodding, Hermione waited for more, but when he said nothing, she followed up with a question. "Okay, but why did you set your sheets on fire?"

"I was upset. I can't remember what exactly had me so mad, but I was a true horror that day."

"I made the glass at the zoo disappear and set a python on my cousin Dudley once."

That was a whole different topic, as Draco made a face of surprise as the doors all opened magically. "When it's just the three of us, you _need_ to tell me more."

Harry smiled and gave a small nod.

"Draco!"

"Ah, Harry, Hermione, this is Goyle and Crabbe. Where were you two?"

"We were sitting in with Parkinson and Nott,"

"Sounds like a quiet compartment."

Both boys gave him a nod, though neither elaborated. They didn't need to as not far behind them, a girl and boy their age stepped out of the compartment, giving nasty looks at one another for whatever reason.

"Watch it, Parkinson! I'd like to think you're at least educated in the art of walking in a straight line." Nott pushed past the girl with a short black bob.

"_Say, Draco, they're your friends too, shouldn't you―"_

Draco raised a hand and cut Harry off, "no, and no. I mean, yes, technically they are my friends, but there is so much bad blood between those two, I'd rather not get involved, ever, if possible." He put both his hands on Harry's shoulders and started guiding him off the train and after the two irritable eleven-year-olds. Hermione following quietly behind. She took in her surroundings, eyes moving from one student to another. Hermione saw a red-haired boy walking with his head down, a look of nervous trepidation in his eyes. She pitied him. It didn't look like he had anyone with him, and being new and alone seemed horrible. She knew it would be. That's why she'd played her cards in the robe shop. It was best to have _someone_ then _no one_.

"Hermione?"

She turned to see Draco and Harry looking back at her, "huh?"

"You coming?"

A line was starting to form behind her. Eyes widening, she rushed forward off the train and apologized to the girl behind her. An older student who just laughed it off. The red and gold tie told her that she was a Gryffindor. Pulling the bag from over her shoulder before making way to the luggage, she placed it down and sighed. _'Off to a great start, Hermione. Let's try not to stand out anymore.'_

**-x-x-x-**

**Me: Here is chapter three, hope you all enjoy~! Let me know your thoughts, and I'll update again soon.**


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